


Dysfunction Junction

by PippinPips



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Broken Bones, Charles is an asshole, College, Domestic Violence, Drunk Driving, Dysfunctional Relationships, Erik is an asshole, M/M, Self-Harm, Sex, They're both assholes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-10
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2017-11-13 22:52:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/508585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PippinPips/pseuds/PippinPips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn't that Charles hates Erik, it's more that he hates him as much as he loves him. The feeling is completely mutual, but it's to the point where this is all routine. </p><p>One pulls away and then they rebound back together.</p><p>-----------------</p><p>Chapter Two: When We Care pt. 1<br/>Chapter Three: Junction<br/>Chapter Four: Crash<br/>Chapter Five: I.Love.You<br/>Chapter Six: Choke<br/>Chapter Seven: When We Care pt. 2<br/>Chapter Eight: Drink Me Up<br/>Chapter Nine: Breathe<br/>Chapter Ten: Second Date</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dysfunction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wallhaditcoming](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallhaditcoming/gifts).



> For Wall. She was telling me about her Marvel BB and I immediately said Dysfunction Junction, to which she replied that I should totally write a story or a series for it. 
> 
> Welp, it started out just being a fic, and it's probably going to end up being a series eventually because I didn't even manage to get to the porn in this part.

Life is like a funhouse mirror at times, all distorted and wrong but delightfully fun. Charles tips his head back and stares at the night sky through his window. He aches for company to take his mind off of how dreadfully lonely he feels. His hand reaches for his phone to dial a number it knows all so well. The recipient won’t want to talk to him right now, he’s angry and all around just feeling vengeful, but Charles feels lonely and so he calls.

It takes six calls in succession before the answer is an actual live human voice as oppose to a recording. The sound of a bar pulses in the background and reminds him of how very alone he is. It makes his chest ache all over again.

“Come over,” he demands.

“You broke it off four hours ago,” the voice reminds him.

“I am done with being single,” Charles states, his left hand clenches tightly in the sheets, tugging and pulling at the thick fabric. Silence stretches.

“What if I’m not?”

“Then you’re lying.  You are worse at this dating thing than I am,” Charles snaps. Most people find that he’s actually great at talking to people, fantastic even, most say he’s a great person to be around. He’s a damn catch, if not for his tendency to drink himself into a stupor and the way he loses track of his tongue sometimes that seems to chase others away. Though that’s more than what can be said about his companion who often sends people hightailing it in the opposite directions when he’s stone cold sober.

“I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.” Charles doesn’t cheer, instead he gets up and pours himself a couple glasses and downs them both.

“Fabulous, I’ll leave the front door unlocked.” He pulls out a few more glasses, getting ready for their night in.

“I still have my key.” Charles smiles.

“Even better.” They hang up without uttering a word of goodbye. The moment the phone is settled down on his counter, Charles immediately busies himself by tapping out a cigarette from the carton. Nothing comes out.

Charles barely cuts of a curse before he throws the container at the wall. He knows exactly who left him without a cigarette and he’ll have words when his other half arrives. There are a few things he stands for, and the number is very few, but stealing his hard earned cigarettes and then leaving him an empty carton isn't one of the acceptable things. And  _he_ knows it. 

Twenty-three minutes later than what was agreed upon, and his guest arrives. He stands in the doorway with his hands curled around the edges of the opening, as if it was the thing that was holding him up. Charles doesn’t have much to say though; he’s already forgone the glasses and instead just grips the neck of the bottle and smiles. His visitor is still impressive looking, even through the haze.

“You are very late,” Charles informs him.

“Sorry.” The reply is harsh and dry, not sorry at all. It’s not as if Charles can say too much, he’s usually insincere about his apologies as well. An apology here or there keeps most people satisfied for a few moments.

“Don’t lie,” Charles admonishes him. “If you were sorry you wouldn’t smell like cheap beer and someone else’s cologne. Did you fuck him?” Charles can’t recall if he actually wants to know or if he wants to pretend he’s never asked.

“You called before I could get drunk enough to.” The answer it painfully honest, but it makes him feel better. Charles opens his arms and gives a sharp smile.

“Well then, I suppose I owe you a good, rough, revenge fuck for the one I took away then, eh?” he asks. The man is on him in moments a knee between his thighs and their breath mixing creating a whole new alcoholic drink as they stare into each other’s eyes.

“Why did you call me, Charles?” he asks. “You wanted me out. You couldn’t live with me.”

“Why did you come when I called, Erik?” Charles shoots back. Erik’s eyes flutter to a close and he takes a deep longer breath.

“You didn’t answer me,” Erik states harshly. He punches the cushion beside Charles’ head, and for a brief second Charles remembers why he kicked Erik out four hours previously. Erik plays his games and hates it when Charles plays his, which in all honesty is only fitting as Charles likes to play his games, but he can’t stand Erik’s. Still there is something that always draws them back to one another. Charles can’t put his finger on it, but when he calls Erik comes running and if Erik ever would call, Charles knows he wouldn’t hesitate to be at his side without a single thought to ignoring him.

There is no one for him but Erik, not matter how much he hates the man at times, which has become a frighteningly far more often occurrence than not.

“You know I won’t.” Erik bares his teeth like some sort of animal that Charles has often enough told him he is. One of his hands hooks around the back of Charles’ neck and pulls. Their lips smash together clumsily and there are too many teeth being involved as they try to kiss. Charles pulls at Erik’s hair. He pulls so hard that Erik has to tilt his head back and hiss in pain.

“I fucking hate you, Xavier,” he growls. Charles just smiles through his drunken haze and tugs harder, not enough to rip out the lovely hair, but enough that it forces Erik to show off his long neck.

“Feeling is very mutual, Lehnsherr,” Charles gives a purr and then latches his mouth to the pale skin of Erik’s neck. He bites and nips in a rough and careless measure. There is no need to impress Erik, no need at all. Erik grabs his wrist hard and wrenches them behind his back. Charles arches back and glares.

“Why won’t you fucking let me go?” he demands. Charles raises a brow.

“I wasn’t the one, who punched a man in the face because he was talking to me, while, I might add, we were on a break.”

“He was reaching for your pants.”

“We. Weren’t. Dating.”

“He was your professor!” Charles opens his mouth to retort, but instead shrugs.

“Point. Still made you jealous.” Erik lets out a deep low growl, like he’s about to rip something off the hinges. Charles looks to his door and hopes that it won’t suffer, again.  Erik just pulls him up by the front of his shirt, the entire world seems to spin for a moment, before Charles can somewhat right himself. By then, Erik is already devouring his mouth. He has absolutely no complaints even when Erik’s fingers dig painfully into his skin. Erik pulls back to look in his eyes absolutely vicious.

“So you were just screwing with me.”

“Well, only mostly. We weren’t together, but I wanted to be. So, I set up the professor. Don’t tell me you’ve never done something like that,” Charles replies blandly. Though it’s a challenge and they both know it. If neither of them can come up with a moment that Erik has done the very same thing, then he wins. Except, Charles knows with a smile that there is something. “Oh, I remember now,” he drawls out. Erik slaps a hand over his mouth and Charles just licks his palm. Erik reluctantly pulls his hand away.

“Fine, I crashed my car to get your attention.”

“Good. Boy. That’s fine I would’ve put something in your way anyways. I was tired of the across the campus looks.”

“I would’ve punched anyone before that professor, he just gave an opening.” Charles patted his shoulder.

“Well then, take me to bed,” he tells Erik.

“You’re going to pass out.”

“So?”

“I’m not fucking your unresponsive body.”

“Fair enough.” And Erik is right, Charles can feel himself slipping maybe he shouldn’t have had the last five drinks. He feels himself sway and the room move a bit more. His balance is absolute shit, but that’s what Erik is for. Erik and his alcohol and cologne smelling body. Charles smacks his shoulder. “You’re taking a shower.”

“And you’re passing out in your own vomit?”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re too drunk to.”

“I’ll make it up to you in the morning happy now?” Erik snorts, and jostles Charles a bit.

“It better a good one in the morning. No half-assing it.”

“Yes, sir! Now put me to bed!” Charles commands. “And if you leave me on a couch, there will be no morning rough, apology sex.”

“You don’t do apology sex.”

“Fake apology sex before my noon class.”

“I am so grateful you penciled me in,” Erik snarls. He’s riling up again.  

“You should be,” Charles snaps right back. Erik jostles him a bit more, but eventually he moves his long powerful legs towards the bedroom, a place he is very familiar with, and then proceeds to drop Charles rather unceremoniously on the bed. “You are a giant twat, who is too emotionally constipated to even be in a proper relationship.” Charles throws out a barb.

“You’re a raging alcoholic who sees no issues with the fact that he’s driven everyone but the _emotionally constipated_ person away,” Erik’s retort is only mostly painful. Charles rolls so he can look at Erik.

“Shall we compare notes on how fucked up the other is? Maybe then we can find some common ground?” Charles snarls. Erik falls atop him, his entire body caging Charles in.

“You want to go there tonight, Xavier?”

“Why not? I’m feeling so much more _sober_.” Erik’s kiss is harsh, but it always is and it always sends a roll of absolute delight along Charles’ spine. He lifts his legs up and brackets Erik’s narrow hips. One of his hands slides down along Erik’s spine and brushes along his ass.

Erik’s body was what drew Charles to him at first. A nice one night stand, but then there was a mind behind that body and then it all became this. This relationship that no one understands, Moira always tells him just to leave, that Erik shouldn’t have any hold over him. Charles just laughs. He removes his hands from Erik’s ass and instead wraps his legs around his waist and pulls him down so he’s flush against him.

“You’re going to pass out,” Erik growls between kisses. He rocks his hips against Charles, and there is no way Charles is keeping the moan from rolling out from his throat.

“Not when you move like that you fucking asshole.” Erik pulls back just far enough that Charles can actually focus on his face if he wants. He doesn’t.

“Like this?” Erik asks and moves his hips in the exact way he had before. Charles tips his head back, not only to allow the whining moan emittence from his mouth but also to not look at Erik. Fucking Erik. Charles squeezes his thighs hard around him, and he only receives a grunt. Deep, low and only slightly pained, but afterwards Erik doesn’t move--his body is completely still. Charles wonders for a few moment what is going on and then Erik pulls away, untangling himself from Charles’ grasp, and then he is left wondering if he’s gone too far.

“Leaving?” he asks, though he makes sure he doesn’t sound as worried as he feels. Erik snorts and pulls at his clothes.

“Showering. You hate the scent so much,” Erik replies. Charles blinks; he actually didn’t really notice the cologne on Erik. It was something he filed away as Erik pressed him in against the bed, but the memory resurfaces and he gives a scowl.

“Yes, go do that. I might not be awake when you get back though.” Erik just looks at him for a few moments his hands on the waistband of his jeans. He looks like a pretty little picture that Charles wants nothing more than to mark up.

“Is that a promise?” Erik challenges. Charles glares at him before shifting in his bed.

“You bet it’s a fucking promise.” He rolls to his stomach and buries his hands beneath his pillow. He’s ready to go on to continue to ignore Erik, when he feels a kiss at the back of his neck right behind his hear.

“Well then, I’ll take an extra-long one so you owe me in the morning.” He punctuates his sentence with a smack against Charles’ ass. Charles grits his teeth, he hates the man, he really does, but at the same time he loves him very much. He falls asleep to the sounds of the shower and his own thoughts chasing one another. 


	2. When We Care pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are moments when they aren't pulling at each other like dogs at meat, but usually for that to happen something big has to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is Charles showing he really cares. I have a plan for a companion piece where it's Erik's turn to show he loves his man. 
> 
> But they're still dysfunctional.

It’s the call the does him in. Raven is on the other side her voice pitching back and forth as she tries to keep it together. She says she’s fine, but Erik, Erik is hurt. Erik is hurt. Charles tries to think of what Erik is trying to prove, but they’re actually in a good spot. Everything is fine for the moment. It’s then that he can’t remember how to move or really even breathe. His hands shake and he drops the phone in the middle of the conversation as Raven tries to tell him what happened. He doesn’t care. Erik is hurt and he could be dying and Charles is just standing in his apartment trying to breathe.

He tries to remember the name of the hospital anything, but all he can really focus on are the keys. He needs his keys because without them he can’t start the car; he can’t go to see Erik. Erik who might be bleeding out, and it doesn’t matter if the wound is superficial Charles can’t think of anything but Erik’s paling face and his eyes going dim. He needs his keys. Except, he has to stop, he has to laugh, his head bobbing back until tears prickle at his eyes.

Charles doesn’t have his keys. He doesn’t have them because Erik took them. He was borrowing his car. Crumpling to the floor, Charles tries to breathe through the hysterical giggles that wrack his body. His nails scrape along his wooden floors as he tries to collect himself. Raven’s on the other end of the phone screaming at him and it isn’t helping all he can imagine is that she’s screaming about Erik. Screaming about how they have to save him, because that’s what Charles is going to do, when he collects himself enough to ride the damn bus. He pulls on a coat, one that’s far too long in the arms for him, but he doesn’t care. The scent of Erik, the cigarettes, booze, and whatever else Erik seems to get into wafts towards his nose. He nearly falls back to ground, but instead Charles marches himself over to the liquor cabinet and pours himself a drink, his hands shaking, before he wanders over to one of the end tables.

He’s still ignoring the phone as Raven’s voice dies out. She stops talking and eventually his screen lights up again saying that the call was ended after a certain amount of time. Charles doesn’t notice any of this because he’s downing his second glass while he digs through a draw, pawing at it, trying to find the bus pass. His hands stutter upon the rectangle object, his fingers curling around it whilst his other shakes around the glass in his hands. It’s not relief that pours through his veins, it’s something that he can’t name, won’t name, can’t understand and it’s filling him to the brim as he pours his third and fourth drinks.

Charles barely stops himself before he takes his fifth glass in hand, shakily he sets it down and takes a deep breath, but the tears are still pricking at the edges of his vision and the feeling, whatever it is, is still there. He winds a scarf around his neck and somehow manages to go out the door. It’s mostly a blur as he stumbles down the sidewalk his hand brushing against rough brick or even stone at times. Charles tries to keep his mind away from the hospital, but it’s all he can think about. It claws at his throat ripping his organs to shreds. He finds himself curling over in some random alley way throwing up his drinks, destroying any barrier he’d had before, leaving him bare and vulnerable. What he wants to do is run back to his apartment and tear open the door just to get a few more glasses in him. The thought of missing Erik anymore though keeps him rooted beside his own vomit.

He needs to call Raven, yet as he digs his hands into the pockets of his borrowed coat he finds that he can’t find his phone. It’s still on the floor of his apartment where he’d dropped it. A shaky laugh drops from his lips, he looks down and he can’t stop laughing because everything falls apart when Erik isn’t there. Things fall apart when he is, but it’s not the same. And if Erik is gone, if Erik is so severely hurt that he won’t be around no matter how often Charles calls him. He clenches his eyes shut and he breathes through his nose only to dry heave once more as the scent of his own puke burns at his nostrils. Charles turns and walks away from the alley, he needs to get to the bus stop.

Somehow, if someone asks he won’t know, Charles makes it to the hospital he thinks Erik is being held at. He is at the reception desk when a bag clocks him across the face causing him to stumble sideways. His world is a swirl of pain a little bit disoriented as he tries to refocus and remember if there is anyone who he’s pissed off enough to bodily harm him. He’s still going through his long list when Raven starts shrieking and it narrows down considerably.

“You son of a bitch! I was so worried! I called Darwin and the boys to go visit you! Do you know they called to say that your alcohol was out and your phone was on the floor?” she shouts.

“Erik,” he croaks out. Though part of him does want to mention that Darwin and the boys sounds like some cheesy pop or rock group, he ignores that stray thought and instead tries his best not to shake or sound too worried. The way Raven’s face crumbles for a few moments though tells him he is nowhere near successful.

“He isn’t bad just a broken bone. Like I said just worse off than me,” Raven tells him, but Charles doesn’t really care about the details because details give hope. He just wants to see the bastard. “The car is worse off.”

“Where. Is. He?” Charles bites out. Raven startles, but then she just narrows her eyes, and tells him the number through her gritted teeth. Charles nearly runs, but he catches himself. He manages to keep his cool, clutching onto Erik’s coat for dear life all while he walks down the hall. It’s not until he sees Erik, the butterfly bandage on his eyebrows and his arm in the sling glowering at the woman in front of him does Charles feel his body start to quake. Erik looks up almost immediately like he’s drawn to Charles and his expression becomes more clouded. “You crashed my car you asshole.” The nurse looks up and her face scrunches for a few seconds before she tells him that he’s not supposed to aggravate the patient.

“Some fuckbag who doesn’t know how drive wrecked your car, I did the best I could to save it and your sister,” Erik shoots back ignoring the nurse completely. When she reaches to straighten something Erik growls out an “I’m fine!” Charles is only half impressed when she just arches a brow; the other half just wishes that she would take a damn hint and leave them alone.  

“Can we have a moment?” he asks as politely as he can. The woman looks between them. She contemplates it and then gives a brief nod.

“Don’t aggravate him too much,” she warns. Any one of their friends would’ve found the order hilarious, but Charles just plasters on a happy smile and waits up until the door is shut before he launches himself towards Erik. There is a grunt of pain, but he doesn’t care because Erik isn’t bleeding out, he isn’t dying on some surgeons table. He’s okay, a little banged up but overall alive. Charles roughly presses his lips against Erik’s, their mouths melding together for only a few moments before Erik jerks back and frowns at him.

“Did something die in your mouth?” he asks. With his unhurt hand, Erik swipes a palm along his lips.

“Shut up. I am just glad that you’re only mildly hurt,” Charles snaps.

“Not happy enough to pop a few mints in your mouth.” Charles presses a thumb against a visible bruise just to watch Erik wince.

“All my mints are in my car, which you wrecked! While my sister was in it!” he snarls.

“I told you that it was a fucking dumbass other driver!” Erik goes right back at him. Charles tips his head back and laughs, his entire body shakes as the tears come. The tears from before and while he was on the bus. He crawls onto Erik’s lap and pulls at the fabric stretching across Erik’s frame.

“You scared me. You scared me so fucking much. I wanted to drink it all away. Just not feel anything,” Charles whispers. Erik isn’t slow to wrap an arm around him. They sit still for a few moments just feeling each other’s heat.

“Is that why you threw up?” Erik asks eventually. Charles lets out a hurt whimper, but he nods.

“Only four glasses though. I knew I couldn’t be too shitfaced as to not be able to ride the bus.”

“At 3 pm.”

“Shut up, I did it for you.” Erik presses a kiss to his cheek and then temple. Their moment, or whatever it is, is ruined the second the nurse reappears and demands that Charles gets out. Right as he reaches the door Charles tips back and looks over Erik’s bruised form.

“You’re going car shopping with me this weekend,” he informs Erik.

“Fuck you!”

“Not with that arm you’re not!”

“Are you so sure?” Erik growls. The nurse looks positively murderous.

“Absolutely positive,” Charles calls back. He goes through the door and walks down the hall, ignoring the waiting room. In the end he makes it out of the hospital without being dragged back by anyone. Something he finds out only happened because everyone was waiting outside in the parking lot for him. Erik’s not-friends, his sister’s friends who somewhat adopt him on the weekend, and Moira. “Oh, shit.”

“Charles,” Moira begins.

“No I don’t want to hear it unless you have words like party, booze, and not remembering tonight.”

“Charles!”

“Oh, and I am definitely _not_ in the mood to hear about how you think our relationship can get better. That fucking man, he’s, just fuck you if you can’t see it,” Charles shouts as he stomps back towards the hospital. He’ll wait for when Erik gets discharged and then maybe they’ll go have a drunken romp that will probably end up with Erik in more pain in the morning, but it’s better than dealing with the people they know. “Good-bye!” he waves them off. Except they follow him back into the hospital and into the main waiting room where a child is hacking up her very lungs by the looks of it.

“Are you two even still together?” Raven asks at his side. Charles frowns, but then he remembers two years before. Erik had done something and Charles had retaliated. It had ended with Charles in the hospital somewhere along the line and their longest time of space.

“Stop sticking your noses into our business,” Charles grumps. “And don’t ride in my car with my boyfriend. You’re obviously a distraction.” Raven looks hurt and Charles wants a beer or anything. He settles for a coffee eventually and then he’s stuck with their eyes on him. It’s not often he wishes for Erik’s special ability to sneer at people until they leave, but right then he doesn’t like their gazes clinging to him like some sort of sticky mess.

There’s a hand on his shoulder and he can tell from the manicure that it’s Emma Frost’s. Charles isn’t sure how Emma appeared in their lives, but one day she wasn’t there and the next she was. She’s upper class money, like Charles and she’s ridiculously gorgeous enough that most people on campus often wonder what it is exactly that she's doing around any of them. Charles sometimes hates her on sight, other times its Erik who does.

“You know, if I hadn’t seen it for myself, I would have never believed you two actually love each other,” she comments. Charles clicks his tongue.

“Well done for the insight. Now, will you please leave so I can wait alone?” Charles asks. Emma laughs and the others look torn. He ignores them for the most part only paying attention to the fact that they’re still there, until they leave. Then when he’s alone, he just waits for Erik to be discharged and for the police, if they weren’t already there, to talk to his boyfriend, so then they can take the stupid bus all the way back to his apartment. Charles lets out a puff of breath, his hands shake a little. He’s going to keep Erik in his apartment for as long as he can, most likely up until the cast comes off.

 


	3. Junction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the beginning to it all. The moment when one dysfunctional person met the other. It's the moment they become the Junction to whatever their relationship became.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, I think this chapter will move this story to Explicit. Hahaha, it's very NSFW, and probably won't be the last porn-y chapter.

 Charles is drinking, which isn’t new. He’s also drinking something he doesn’t’ quite know what’s in it, still not new. Actually all of this is rather bland and more of the same old same old. There are the same people he’s fucked, the same ones who’ve pretended that they were the ones who fucked him, and then there’s his _friends_. Or maybe they’re not his friends, he can’t quite remember if he’s blown them off enough times for them to tell him that they’re done with his bullshit. Then again, Sean is throwing the party and he got his invite just like everyone else, so Charles assumes they’re not on the hiatus.

“What is she doing here?” He listens as Raven hisses to his left. He tilts the glass down and sees the most gloriousset of tits he’s seen in a while, but then his gaze veers to the left because tits are nice enough but Raven is angry with those tits and he doesn’t need her harping on his case of something more. So, instead he looks around and then there he is.

Oh, Charles knows exactly who Erik Lehnsherr is, he’s seen him around oogled his perfectly sculpted body and decided that somehow he was going to get that fine piece of work to fuck him at least once. Raven has opinions about Lehnsherr too, but they’re more along the lines of what Charles wants to do, but honestly Charles can see the hungry look Lehnsherr is giving him back as he swallows down a beer from a red solo cup. Raven is just shit out of luck on that chance.

He downs the rest of his drink, no use in wasting something so fine one someone else, and then he saunters towards Erik Lehnsherr the man who is famed to be the only person ever to make his entire study group cry within five minutes. Charles honestly wants to know how he did it and what’s in his pants. The two things could be linked. But then fantastic tits appears in his vision, all decked in white and once Charles pulls his gaze from her fantastic rack he notices a semi-familiar face.

“Well shit,” he mutters.

“Nice to see you too, Xavier.” Emma Frost, Emma Fucking Frost shakes her head like she’s in some sort of shampoo commercial and continues to block his way of Lehnsherr.

“Do you need something Emma? Some weed, cocaine? Maybe a rich sugar daddy type that you can sink or talons into? I heard someone has a boyfriend somehwere around here and he is completely straight on most days, so why don’t you go shimmy off and try your hand at that one?” Emma just smiles.

“I know exactly where you’re heading Xavier.”

“Are you here to warn me off? Tell me how bad he is or how bad I am?” Emma lets out a peel of laughter and those around them just look.

“No! You two will eat other alive and I would actually prefer to have front seats to that,” she explains.

“Then why this?”

“Oh, I am just doing your sister one favor and giving you time to think through your alcoholic haze.”

“Done, and my sister thinks you’re a whore,” Charles informs her.

“Which is why I am doing it this way. I look like the better person, but I know you’re going to go over there and get your way.”

“So, are we done here, or do you want to pretend some more?” Charles waves his hand.

“No, I’m good. I hope he tears you to shreds.” With a pat on the shoulder Emma disappears into the crowd and Charles resumes his saunter towards Lehnsherr, who still looks like he just peeled himself out of some high fashion magazine.

“Hello I’m-”

“I don’t really care,” Lehnsherr interrupts him. He leans forward and wraps a hand around the back of Charles’ neck, and Charles can’t find himself minding too much. Most of the time he can take or leave a dominating person, actually he would prefer if the dominating arsehole would just go choke and die, but sometimes he likes to play with the in your face type. “And I don’t think you really do either.”

“Caught me,” Charles agrees.

“Are you drunk?”

“Only slightly.”

“Your place then.” Charles feels taken aback he thinks for a moment that he should put his foot down and say that he would rather do this in the bathroom, but what he really wants is his legs wrapped around Lehnsherr’s waist and lips bruising his skin. He lets it slide.

“You want my keys?” he asks instead. He goes for sultry and feels Lehnsherr’s grip tighten on the back of his neck.

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I want.” He’s being pulled closer and Charles just smiles. Lehnsherr’s going to make it rough. He hooks his fingers around one of the belt loops once Lehnsherr stands up.

“Charles!” Raven calls out, she sounds upset but Charles will deal with that later if he has to because Lehnsherr is tilting his chin up and then capturing his lips with a ferociousness that he once more finds he doesn’t mind too much. Maybe it’s because he knows that the man isn’t pretending to an alpha male, or maybe he’s just desperate for a break from the monotony. It doesn’t matter in the end; Charles just presses himself against the other male and bites at his bottom lip. “Charles what the hell?” He just waves her off and finds the eventually he’s been put in his own car with Lehnsherr behind the wheel grinning like a maniac.

Something he learns quickly about Lehnsherr, not that he’s really trying to learn anything about the man, is that while he can drive and probably be one of the best drivers in Charles’, probably short, life. He prefers not to. He seems to like weaving in between cars with a precision that Charles is only mostly jealous off, but it does give him an idea that if he and Lehnsherr ever hook up again it needs to involve testing out road head. Charles has always wanted to try it but he’s a rather shoddy driver naturally so having most of his attention elsewhere would put a whole damper on his lifestyle as a whole.

“Address?” Lehnsherr more of demands than asks. Charles rather gleefully gives him the said address in hopes that his jaw will drop or he’ll at least act like he’s astounded by the fact that Charles a college student can afford such a place. Except instead he gets a half grumbling sentence that sounds more like _fucking trust fund kids_ , which he would take offense to if there was anything untrue about it. But as the fact of the matter stands Charles is a trust fund kid. He comes from a very wealthy family that could buy his way into almost any school if he wasn’t so smart in the first place, so there is absolutely nothing to worry about his wealth. Even if Lehnsherr spits it out like it leaves a horrible taste in his mouth.

Surprisingly enough, they make it to Charles’ place without being arrested or pulled over once. Something Charles chalks up to most of the good men and women of the city running around it to break up those crazy college parties. He turns to say something; something that he thinks will be witty when Lehnsherr attacks his mouth. Hands go immediately to his waist and soon he finds himself off the ground with his legs wrapping around Lehnsherr like a vice. Charles drags his hands along Lehnsherr’s hair. They’re silkier than he expects and Charles almost wants to teasingly ask what he uses in in his hair. He shelves that idea for when he wants to kick Lehnsherr out of his bed. They’re kissing and, Lehnsherr acts like he’s going to swallow him whole.

“Room?” Lehnsherr asks the second he’s detached himself from Charles, and it takes Charles a few moments to comprehend what is going on. He mumbles the address and then they’re off, Lehnsherr hauling him up the stair. Charles waits for him to start huffing and puffing, or until he starts getting sweaty. He waits for the second that Lehnsherr becomes less attractive, but that never happens because before they reach his door, Lehnsherr has him pushed against the wall and while he can put his feet on the ground there is a thigh between his legs and a rather magnificent chest pressing against him. He’s being pinned and he loves every second of it. He loves the feel of Lehnsherr’s muscles against him, he’ll have to ask Raven if she knows what sports he does because the man has the most delicious muscles he has felt in a while.

Lehnsherr nips at his bottom lips, Charles allows his mouth to hang open and the second Lehnsherr puts his tongue in his mouth he sucks on the muscle. The moan Lehnsherr gives off sends a pool of heat down towards Charles’ groan and all he wants is to feel the man above him in bed. He pulls back and gives the best smile he can manage all whilst Lehnsherr looks at him with hooded eyes.

“So, are we ever going to make it to my bed?” he asks. Lehnsherr grins and there are too many fucking teeth, but Charles only grins back.  Lehnsherr shifts his hips; the friction nearly undoes him, right then and there. That doesn’t _happen_ to Charles Xavier, especially when he’s been drinking. Maybe it’s just Lehnsherr and maybe Charles just needs one decent fuck before he goes back to slumming.

“I don’t know is your bed comfortable?”

“I’m a trust fund kid, what do you think?” Lehnsherr just smiles at him again, lips pulled wide like he’s going to swallow Charles whole. And all Charles wants to see is that mouth stretched around his cock. Most people think that about Charles himself with his red lips, but he doesn’t often give blowjobs not when he would rather have them fucking his arse. He reaches between their bodies and cups Lehnsherr. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters as he feels the erection. “You’re going to make me feel this for weeks aren’t you?”

Lehnsherr just presses his face against his neck and bites down. Charles grips tightly at the clothing and gives off a gasp as his abused skin is sucked into a hot mouth.

“Bed?” Lehnsherr is rough as he manhandles Charles towards his door. Before he can open his front door he’s pressed against the wood again. His chin drags painfully against the hard surface as Lehnsherr bears down on me.

“Ow!” he yells louder than he needs to. Most people jump away, most put their hands up and apologize. Lehnsherr just laughs darkly in his ear before he wraps his lips around Charles’ lobe and tugs at it. Charles lets out a hiss. He tries to wiggled out of Lehnsherr’s grasp but it isn’t until he’s let go does he really get to move. Shoving him, Charles is surprised the Lehnsherr goes easily until he actually smacks against the other wall and just smiles down at Charles like it’s the best thing.

“Don’t do that again? Okay? I say ow you step back, got it? Or I will sue your stupid, poor arse ten ways from Sunday!” he threatens. Lehnsherr’s smile just widens. He leans down and kisses Charles again as if he wasn’t threatened with legal action, as if he has nothing to lose. It shouldn’t turn on Charles as much as it does, but there’s something so dark about Lehnsherr that he just wants to peer deeper into the well. He reaches up and pulls Lehnsherr towards him and back through his door. He’s followed fairly easily and Lehnsherr just continues to kiss him up until he has Charles back against his dining room table and is looking down at him like he’s some sort of display.

“Condoms?” Lehnsherr asks.

“My bedroom,” Charles answers. Lehnsherr drags a hand down his chest and Charles leans towards the touch. He fingers eventually brush against Lehnsherr’s cheekbones. “Do you know how gorgeous you are?” Lehnsherr leans and presses a kiss against his neck before he whispers.

“I was about to say the same thing to you.” Once more Lensherr sweeps him up and he just clings to the man, wrapping his body around him and pressing kisses along his neck, along his jaw, and anywhere else he can reach. Charles doesn’t stop even as they both fall to the bed. Instead he rolls atop of Lehnsherr, pressing down on him much like he had done earlier. His fingers hook with Lehnsherr’s.

“Clothes!” Charles growls, and Lehnsherr complies by ripping off his button up shirt, destroying it, and then practically ripping at his own clothing as well. Charles doesn’t complain, he’s richer than most and if he wants new shirts it isn’t a problem. Though he makes sure to take extra care with his pants and then Lehnsherr’s because what those pants did for them both, it would be a sin to destroy either of them. Once they’re both naked, Charles gets back on top of Lehnsherr; he presses kisses down along Erik’s stomach his lips forming shapes along the taunt flesh, marking Lehnsherr like he’s his. Charles is too enthralled with pressing his lips against Lehnsherr that he doesn’t really notice until it’s too late and Lehnsherr already flips them so that he’s hovering above Charles.

“Condoms and lube?” he asks. He dips down and sucks a bruise onto Charles’ neck.

“Bedside table. I’m sure at least one will fit you,” Charles replies. He leans back and admires Lehnsherr’s body as he moves to the bedside table. He smiles at the slender waist the lean, wipe cord lean muscles and of course the prick that bobs between Lehnsherr’s thighs. If not for the fact that he wants to ride Lehnsherr hard, he would actually be tempted to suck the man off. Especially since it’s been a while since he has seen such a glorious cock. He pulls at Lehnsherr’s leg, causing him to topple over. He lands and as he does he knocks the air out of both of them.

When Charles gets his air back he just laughs and soon Lehnsherr joins him. He’s still laughing until he feels one of Lehnsherr’s fingers as they swirling around his entrance. A finger breeches him and Charles finds himself enjoying the stretch. He loves the feeling of Lehnsherr working him open with his long fingers, and the second Lehnsherr’s fingers brush against his prostate he finds himself forgetting that he ever wants to ask Raven if she knows if he plays an instrument as well as a sport. Lehnsherr is relentless as he works him open, as he stretches and loosens him up. He’s gasping and writhing, as well as calling Lehnsherr a few choice names, beginning him to just get on with it.

Above him, Lehnsherr gives another one of his smiles. The one that has Charles’ toes curling at the thought of the man between his legs. He wants and he’s starting not to make sense as he tries to tell Lehnsherr how he better get a move on. It isn’t until he’s almost at the edge, when Charles is fairly certain he’s going to get off by just having Lehnsherr’s fingers in him, does the man stop. Charles watches him with aching need as he rolls a condom on his rather well-endowed prick and then slicks it up with a bit more lube.

He presses in, and Charles begins to think no matter how long Lehnsherr went at working him open it would’ve never been enough to completely prepare him for the stretch of Lehnsherr’s cock. It burns a little, but it feels so good that the base of tingles a bit, he slides his leg up, until he can wrap one leg around Lehnsherr, his calf brushing against Lehnsherr’s perfect arse as he does.

“Please,” he whispers. Lehnsherr just dips his head down and latches onto his neck. The sensations move across his sensitive skin like a fire on dry grass and Charles just latches onto the warm body above him. Even as Lehnsherr keeps still to allow him to adjust there is nothing more that Charles wants to do than to have the man just thrust into him like some sort of mad man. Maybe later, he’ll get Lehnsherr to do just that. “Move.” He commands.

He doesn’t have to tell Lehnsherr twice. The man rams into him, his thrusts powerful especially after his gets his leverage and then it’s like he knows exactly how to push into Charles because the man has his writhing again, gasping and moaning. He tries to think, he tries to complete full sentences, but whatever Lehnsherr is doing, it rips every thought from his mind and he only reacts. Charles digs his fingers into Lehnsherr’s back, he pulls at him trying to get him to go harder.

Lehnsherr’s pistoning hips eventually stutter out of rhythm and by then Charles finds he’s whispering Lehnsherr’s name like it’s a goddamn mantra. He finds that he can’t stop even as Lehnsherr becomes more unpredictable with his thrusts. With one last thrust Lehnsherr shudders and it’s the motion, that final movement that pushes Charles over the edge to where he’s spattering both of their stomachs with his own sticky come. Lehnsherr slips from him and flops onto the sheets with a satisfied groan, and Charles really can’t blame him because his body is like jelly as he stays prone on his bed.

His lids feel heavy and even as he thinks of telling Lehnsherr to get out he thinks that maybe he deserves a couple hours on a nice bed before Charles shoves him out the door. There is also the fact that Charles wants to just pass out right then and there, that he doesn’t want to make sure that Lehnsherr does indeed get the hell out of his apartment.

 

Charles sleeps for two and a half ours. He comes to with a mess on his stomach that makes him frown with distaste and Erik Fucking Lehnsherr still passed out beside him. Though, much to his slight irritation, at some point while they were both dead to the world, Lehnsherr had thrown an arm over his chest. Charles pushes the offending arm off and then stumbles to the bathroom so that he can wash the mess off of him.

Fumbling in the bathroom, Charles checks the clock six times before he stumbles back towards the bed and throws a wet washcloth at Lehnsherr. The only reaction he gets is a growl and he slams his hand down on Lehnsherr’s arse. It’s that, that gets him to roll over and glare at Charles like he’s wronged him.

“Clean up, then get out,” Charles orders. Lehnsherr grabs the cloth and does clean himself off, but he throws it back at Charles and then flips him off.

“Fuck you, I’m too tired.” Charles gapes at him. He moves forward intent on maybe dragging Lehnsherr off the bed. But instead of dragging Lehnsherr, he gets dragged down instead.

“I told you to leave!” Charles snaps. Lehnsherr turns his head to Charles and just looks at him.

“I’ll leave in the morning, just let me fucking sleep you harpy,” he grumbles. Charles opens his mouth to yell but then Lehnsherr pulls at one of his hands and presses a kiss to the pads of his fingers. It’s a move that for some reason makes Charles reconsider because it isn’t like Lehnsherr is professing his undying love, and he’s had both men and women do that to him with less earth shattering sex. So, for one night he lets it go and falls asleep to someone else.

And if Lehnsherr is still there the next morning for another round in the morning and then still there when he prepares breakfast, well then it’s okay because Charles lets him. 


	4. Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To get back together sometimes one just does anything they can to make the other feel once more. 
> 
> It's destructive. It's dysfunctional. It works. 
> 
> Erik's crash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not normal. After this chapter I am going back to working on my BB so DJ will once more take a little while to update. I apologize profusely.

Erik grabs his drink without really looking at it; he downs it like its water and then watches as Charles drags his hands along some woman’s flank. One week, they’ve been on their hiatus for one week, and Charles is pretending that he’s not putting on a show for Erik. Like Erik can't see every moment he glances over in his direction just to make sure that Erik is watching. Of course he’s watching, why he wouldn’t be. There’s a mark on Charles’ neck that’s too fresh to be Erik’s. He grits his teeth and he stares. Charles won’t use his jealousy against him, not again. Erik keeps drinking and Azazel keeps shooting him worried glances.  

“Erik, you usually do not drink so much,” Azazel whispers in his ear. Erik shoots his roommate a glare and just guzzles another glass of amber liquid. “Can I at least have your keys?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Erik growls. He steps off from his barstool and the room swims for a moment. He shakes off the hand Azazel places on his shoulder and strolls forward up until he has someone who is plastering themselves drunkenly against him. He’ll see how Charles likes when the tables are turned. He looks down to see who exactly is sinking to their knees and trying to open up his jeans. The hair is red and Erik is trying to remember who has red hair. He remembers a couple of people that are at the party, and then the head turns up towards him and he sees that it’s Raven. She looks just as blitzed as he feels, but he doesn’t stop her. What better way to get back at Charles than to let his sister suck him off. Erik just stares down at her as she happily unzips his pants and then proceeds to throw up between his legs.

One of her hands is clamping down on his thigh as she throws up not only on the floor but on her hair as well. With one jerky movement, Erik manages to dislodge her hand and steps over her before she gets anymore on him. He’s not a Xavier, he thinks bitterly, he doesn’t have a million shoes he can throw up on and get away with it. What he owns is all he has. He leaves her with some glasses wearing idiot who Charles sometimes hangs around. Erik barely remembers to zip his pants back up as he stumbles through the crowd. Someone yells his name behind him, but it isn’t Charles and he could give less of a fuck who it is if it isn’t Charles.

As he pushes through the crowds, part of him is sure Raven is going to regret it in the morning, whether it be the drinking or nearly given her brother’s ex head. However, Erik can’t find it in himself to really give a damn, which really isn’t new. Erik pushes through the door and as the cool air wraps around him like a vice he lets out his breath. He’s not sober, but his keys are jingling in his pocket and he wants to see how far he can push it. Just as he’s about to step off the curb the door slams open behind him.

“You are a pathetic human being,” Charles calls out. The sound of his voice sends a shock of pleasure through Erik’s core. He rounds on him and just arches a brow.

“Is that so?” Erik asks. Charles entire stance is a concoction of viciousness and rather erotic. Erik just wants to push him against a wall and show him exactly what it is to be vicious. He wants to push his forearm against Charles’ pale throat he wants to see how long Charles struggles before he gives in to whatever is between them.

“You’re drunk aren’t you?” Charles squints, Erik just laughs. He tilts his head back and just lets it go.

“It looks like for once you’re the one sober,” Erik tells him with a smile.

“So, what is this, your grand plan? You don’t get it do you? I am done with you.” Charles throws the barb out like it’s supposed to hurt, but they both know it isn’t true. Erik is under his skin, just like Charles is under his. Stalking forward, Erik just gives a wide smile as Charles refuses to back down. “Tch, trying to intimidate me?” Charles tries to sound like he’s unaffected, but Erik knows that voice.

“This is me taking one last thing from you,” Erik whispers. The glare he receives sends a thrill through him right before he presses his lips hard against Charles’. It doesn’t even take a millisecond before Charles is wrapping himself around him, fingers through his hair, and teeth at his lips. It’s not until he licks his way into Charles’ mouth does it seem to shake Charles out of whatever he thought was going on. There is a hand against his pectoral and then he is shoved back. Erik’s heels catch at the edge of the curb and he just smirks. “Oh, yes, you’re done with me,” Erik laughs at him. Charles’ face goes red.

“Fuck you, Lehnsherr.”

“I would, but apparently that doesn’t agree with you.” Charles pulls at his shirt and they’re kissing again, except Erik knows Charles is trying to make it hurt, his blunt nails are dragging across Erik’s skin like he’s trying to make him bleed. Erik has to pull away with a laugh. “Do you still not want me?” he asks. The way Charles turns away from him should be his answer. Charles wants him, but doesn’t want to admit he wants him.  An idea forms, just as Erik steps back off the curb. Charles’ blue eyes follow him as he pulls the keys from his pocket.

“You’re drunk,” Charles states.

“I was drunk the first night,” Erik replies. The key ring swings to and fro from his thumb and pointer finger. Charles snorts, he shakes his head like he can’t believe a word Erik says. It’s a fair enough reaction how many times have they lied to each other.

“No you weren’t.”

“Oh, Baby, you don’t know me as well as you think.”

“I know you too well, _darling_. Get a friend to drive your drunk ass home.”

“Anyone going to be there to drive your alcoholic ass back to your castle, _princess_?” Charles rolls his eyes.

“I can stay sober for one night,” he says. It’s Erik’s turn to snort at a lie.

“No, you can’t, but good on you for thinking that maybe, just maybe tonight is the night,” Erik’s snarks. He can feel the venom as it flows through him and the way Charles looks after that comment is like he’s been slapped.

“Get the hell out of here,” Charles snaps.  If he could push him away, Erik is sure he would be doing just that. Erik jingles the keys before he performs the grin everyone calls the shark. His car is half way across the parking lot and when he’s nearly there, he throws a glance over his shoulder just to make sure Charles hasn’t left yet.

He hasn’t.

He’s still standing outside of the building as if he’s going to watch until Erik is out of sight. Perfect. Erik slides into his seat and almost immediately revs the engine. One more quick glance at the rearview mirror tells him that Charles is still there, still watching him as he pulls out of the parking spot and starts driving home. A car whips into the parking lot and the opportunity presents itself to him. He swerves to miss it and car slams into his back panel. The entire thing jars him and he just sits in his seat breathing all while his body comes up with new areas to feel pain. He pushes open his door and almost immediately Charles crawls into the front seat. Hands are on his face and Charles looks like he’s crying.

“You fucking asshole, you fucking asshole.” He keeps repeating. Whoever slammed into him is asking if he’s okay, if he’s hurt. Charles goes still and he leans out of the car to yell. “No you moronic twat! You just hit him because you can’t pay a lick of attention to where you are going!” Charles gets out of the car first, ranting and raving about how his lawyer is going to tear the poor kid to pieces. Erik is slower to get out of car; his body aches though he’s fairly certain that there isn’t too much lasting damage. Still he places a hand to his ribs and makes the motion of pain.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t see him! I swear!” the kid blabbers out. He sounds like he’s about to cry. Erik is almost proud of Charles.

“Why don’t you just leave,” Erik suggests. Charles looks at him like he’s insane. The kid doesn’t have to be told twice before he gets back in his car and limps away. Charles is dragging his hands down Erik’s chest and cooing, while still looking at him like he’s lost it.

“Why?” he asks.

“I’m drunk. I just want to go home not jail.”

“I told you that you were!” Charles yells. He stomps away only to stop and then look at the car. “I’m paying for your car to get fixed and we won’t tell you insurance company. I don’t need you whining about having to pay your bills.” Erik arches a brow. “And I’m taking you home. You have something to drink at your place?” His brow goes higher.

“What do you think?” he asks. Charles just pulls his own keys from his pockets.

“I think I’m taking you home.” Erik leans down and kisses Charles. He can’t quite believe it worked so well, but there Charles is taking him home and if they don’t get too drunk he’ll probably let him fuck him. Erik moves and his body reminds him inconveniently that he’s been in a crash. Maybe nothing acrobatic. He gets in the passenger seat.

“So, does this mean we’re together?” he asks. Charles looks over at him, his face blank for a couple of moments before he reaches over and hits Erik.

“You did that on purpose!”

“I did not call up that kid just to have him crash into me,” Erik states dryly.

“Good because that would be pathetic.”

“You mean like your attempts at getting me to punch someone?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right.” Charles shoots him a look, one that says he’s not going to continue the conversation before he pulls out of the parking lot. This time there is no kid to plow into them. It doesn’t take long to get to Erik and Azazel’s apartment, and Charles makes the comment that he could’ve just walked, damn it. Erik just shrugs his shoulders, though the action makes his body twinge at the motion. Charles shows him no pity as he strolls through the front door and then bounds up the stairs. He slows down by the third flight and basically clings to Erik ignoring his pained expressions.

“Stop being such a baby, or do you want to go to the hospital?”

“Fuck you,” Erik grits out.

“I would love to, really, but if you’re going to grimace at me for holding onto you, I don’t think you can handle a round of good rough make-up sex,” Charles retorts.

“What about a blow job?”

“If you insist on giving me one, I won’t say no.” Erik glares at him. He starts to wonder why he wanted Charles back into his life. Digging his keys back out of his pocket, he tries not to notice when Charles plasters himself to his back and lays kisses along his shoulders. The door clicks open and they nearly stumble through, but Charles untangles himself and beelines for the liquor on the counter. He doesn’t even pull out a glass, and this no longer surprises Erik. Instead he grabs the bottle away and takes a swig himself. Charles pouts at him. Up until Erik gives him back the bottle.

As he watches Charles suck down the liquid, Erik wonders if there is anyone in their lives who would be willing to try to stop Charles from drinking himself to death or even him from taking risks. Maybe Azazel, but his roommate doesn’t exactly go out of his way to keep Erik out of trouble.

“Tell me, darling, were you going to crash your car for me regardless?” Charles asks. Erik pulls the bottle out of his hands and presses against him. He finishes the bottle before Charles can, the numbing affect crashing over him. He wants more and he knows Charles won’t say no to more. Erik walks into Azazel’s bedroom and grabs the vodka. “Oh, mixing alcohol time. Goodie.” Charles reaches his hands out. “Now, tell me, did you?” Erik just looks at him.

“You know the answer.” Charles hums and then saunters towards him. There isn’t a fight as Charles pulls the vodka bottle away from him. He just watches as Charles drinks more.

“I do, I believe. Is it time that we go to bed?” Charles asks. Erik leans down. He kisses the alcohol from Charles’ lips. Charles surges upwards, pressing himself against Erik until they’re stumbling back towards his bedroom. Yet, before they fall to bed, something Erik is only half looking forward to as his mind tries to remind him what he’ll be looking forward to in the morning, Charles tells him, “I really hate how shitty your place is. Move in with me.”

“We just got back together,” Erik grunts.

“Keep the damn flat, just live with me, I don’t care,” Charles says flippantly. It’s a lie. They both know it is. If Erik has two places he has an out and Charles won’t stand that for too long.

“Sure,” Erik agrees. He’s signing his life over to the devil it feels like, but he agrees none the less. Charles smiles. They fall to bed. 


	5. I.Love.You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They just don't say it. 
> 
> It's not part of their relationship. Though maybe once they can break it all, and say it just once. 
> 
> Or as in when Erik and Charles actually say those three words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I lied, but I had a really bad day and I wanted to add to McFassy Tuesday and I had already started to work on this segment so. It's out now. 
> 
> I think you can count this as one of the few moments when they actually might appear as if they really care about each other. Or not. Hold tight next one shouldn't be put up this quickly and it will probably be titled "A Kiss with a Fist"

“I told Hank I loved him this morning,” Raven tells him, “and he just stuttered and looked at me like I was insane.” Charles hums and picks at his food. Raven often says I love you too soon; she falls down that hill it seems like every other week.

“Do you love him?” Charles asks, trying to seem as insightful as he can manage on half attention. He’s sure that’s the question he's supposed to ask.

“Of course I do! I wouldn’t say it otherwise!” Raven retorts. Charles is sure there is some line about saying the words ‘I love you’ for all the wrong reasons, but he doesn’t say those words. He actively steers away from them. When he was sixteen and dating, his girlfriend had told him that she loved him and then stared at him with her big blue eyes waiting for him to say the words back. For the rest of that year, Charles had spouted the words like some sort of parrot and then they would be thrown back at him anytime they found out he did something they didn’t like.

 _I thought you loved me_.

He doesn’t say them any longer and he doesn’t feel the chains that come with the words. The very ones that wrap tight around his throat and are pulled taunt. Erik doesn’t say them either. Charles wonders if Erik knows there are words like that, and he wonders if Erik would say them if he even knew they existed.

“Don’t you tell Erik you love him?” Raven asks. She looks at him imploringly and Charles knows she’s looking for the cracks. There is this attraction that Raven still harbors for Erik, and he knows if he doesn’t keep an eye out after he lets Erik go one of these times she’ll try to snap him up like some sort of piranha. Charles thinks for a moment that maybe he should let it happen and let Raven see who Erik really is, but then he thinks on how much he’ll hate his sister if she ever really touches Erik.

“No. We don’t need silly things like that,” Charles answers coldly. He stabs at his salad for a few more seconds before looking up to see that Raven is staring at him like he’s the one who is in the wrong. He thinks he should be angry at the expectations, but Charles knows the weight Raven puts in those little words.

“Everyone needs to know they’re loved at least once! It’s a stepping stone in a relationship!” she nearly yells at him. People around them are staring like there is actually something to watch other than a screaming woman. Charles waves down the waiter for a glass of something more alcoholic. “Are you seriously going to drink at noon?” Raven demands.

“Well, if you used your eyes then the answer shall be completely obvious. Yes, I am going to drink some at noon, leave, go to some of my classes, go back home, and then probably fuck Erik when he gets home. It’ll be a busy day,” Charles replies dryly. Raven just gapes at him.

“I don’t know what turned you into this,” she whispers, “but I wish you would get help.”

“I would imagine it was the same shitty childhood you had, and darling if I need help I think you should look into seeing someone as well,” Charles’ retort is filled with bitterness and but drowns the bad taste that it leaves in his mouth with his drink. Standing, he moves around his seat and then shoves it towards the round table.  

“Charles!” she calls out and then she finishes so quietly that he almost has to strain to even listen. “You don’t even tell me you love me.” There is this bitter angry part of him, that wants to tell her how much he doesn’t actually love her, and then there’s the rest of him that seems to actually realize that his words impact her, except he can’t tell her. Those words were the same ones he also used with his mother, and they would crash against her uncaring expression like water on the rocks. He would basically beg her to just look at him, to love him for a moment, and she never would.

“I’m sorry Raven, but you know I do,” he says instead. She deflates and he opens his mouth to try to usher the words out, it’s the least he can do. Maybe he’ll pretend like he did before that the words mean nothing that they are just something he can parrot back to her. The words stick in his throat. “I’ll see you next week.” He nearly runs out of the restaurant.

Despite his near perfect attendance record Charles decides he’ll be spending the rest of his day in his apartment getting rightly sauced.

 

*

 

Erik sits in the back of all of his classes. He pretends he doesn’t pay attention for the most part because most of the time he doesn’t pay attention. Instead he’s working through problems in the books that will end up being problems with the homework. It’s something he likes to do, getting things done before they need to be done. The only problem he has with sitting in the back is other people often sit in the back as well. They’re the ones who also think that since he’s in the back that he wants to talk too. He put an end to that quickly with a few choice words and for the most part they leave him out of their chatter. Of course that is better, but there are times when Erik is privy to some of the most inane conversations. Such as the relationship status of one female.

He tunes almost all of it out, until he hears the complaint about how all the jerks just say I love you when they want in someone’s pants. One girl shoots him a look like he’s prime specimen number one. Erik just stares back at her, internally he systematically goes through all the probabilities that she’s either slept with Charles or even himself. Though he’d never used I love you to get into someone’s pants. The last person he had ever said those words to was his mother right before she’d been gunned down by some jackass who couldn’t hit his ex-wife worth a damn.

When he dreams sometimes he can still feel her blood as it sprayed his face. He doesn’t wake screaming any more, but then again he’s sure if he did Charles would just smother him with a pillow for disrupting his beauty sleep. It’s something that Erik likes about Charles, he doesn’t give a damn about what happened to make Erik what he is, and the feeling is mutual.

One of the girls notices the staring contest and sends a disgusted expression his way, almost like he’s some sort of creepy stalker. Erik just gives his best psychotic smile, the one that always makes everyone uncomfortable.

“Oh don’t scare the little bambi’s.” Emma drops a hand on his shoulder, and Erik doesn’t ask why she’s in his class. Much like Charles and most people connected to their group they go around doing what they want. She perches herself on his lap and presses her chest against his, but her eyes are on the girls who are still staring at him. For the moment, he wraps an arm around her waist and arches a brow their way. There was one time he and Emma might’ve gotten together, but Erik is pretty sure he was self-medicating and Emma is too smart to mess with someone who is out of their minds. It’s a missed opportunity that Erik really doesn’t think he misses. Emma slides her fingers through his and makes a show of playing with them, up until they no longer have an audience. He shoves her off his lap and Emma just seems to glide into the other chair. She looks at her nails like there is something interesting on them.

“And what set you off, today?” she asks.

“Nothing,” Erik replies. Emma just smiles at him.

“Oh, Honey, you were about to tear into those girls with probably some rather interesting come back, now what made you so pouty?” She presses.

“They were accusing me of being the type of person who throws words around unnecessarily to get laid.” Emma snorts, yet she still manages to make a delicate and lady like manner.

“No, what you do is much worse, you get yourself hurt and you send your boy into a panic attack. Of course he does the same thing, so I can’t exactly chide you for it and not him,” Emma tells him.

“Is this another one of those times when you try to talk to me about how _unhealthy_ this is?” Erik asks. Emma places on hand on his shoulder and squeezes.

“No, we both know how that works. I start talking you throw something at me and then walk away,” Emma tells him, her voice is dry. “How does Charles fair with your temper tantrums, by the way?”

“He throws things back. Do you have a point here?” Erik asks. He is already returning his attention back to the book before him, preparing to work through one of the problems when Emma squeezes his shoulder. Looking back up he sees the utterly serious expression that comes over her face.

“My point is that maybe you should think about why you’re spending time with him. Why you take him back when he pulls shit like you do. Also, there’s a party tonight, if he’s not already drunkenly comatose by the time you get home maybe you two can drop by?”

“We’ll see,” Erik replies.

 

*

 

The door opens and he’s been testing the words on his lips, he’s been practicing for the last half hour and every time he says it, he rewards himself with a drink. Erik drops his things on the floor by the door and then toes off his boots. He looks magnificent, in Charles’ opinion. That’s one thing that never gets old with Erik, his appeal never really dampens. He is always attractive. He steps up behind Erik and wraps his arms around his toothpick waist before pressing his lips against Erik’s shoulder blade. He feels as the muscles relax a bit against him. It’s then he springs the words up. At least he tries to they catch for a moment in his throat before he coughs them out, and Erik goes stiff as a board.

“What did you say?” Erik demands. He looks almost terrified at the words and Charles hesitates only for a few moments before he forces the words out. They’re the damn truth, even if more than half the time he wants to hit Erik with anything he can. It’s strange because Charles is fairly certain he’s never loved anyone really before Erik, of course he’s never had a consistent partner until Erik really, and he knows the same can be said about Erik.

“I love you,” he manages to choke out. Erik works his jaw, and Charles knows this isn’t going to be good. He steps back because if Erik is going to lose it he would rather not be standing right in front of him.

“Did Emma put you up to this?” Erik accuses him quietly. Charles can’t help but blink at it all because what the hell does Emma have to do with anything.

“Excuse me, but what the fuck does Emma have to do with this? I just told you I love you and you bring up Emma?” Charles steps forward; he brings his hands against Erik and pushes him hard. What he doesn’t expect is for Erik to grab onto him. The both fall to the ground in a pile of limbs and all Charles wants to do is grab whatever text book Erik brought back with him and slam it against Erik’s face. Instead Erik grabs his face and pulls him down so that their lips can meet. They keep kissing until Charles is pretty sure he is going to suffocate if they don’t stop. He pulls back. 

“You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to, just if you say it mean it,” Charles nearly growls out his words and Erik just looks at him. Despite his words though Charles knows that if Erik doesn’t admit to his love then he’s going to drink until he hears those words. He’s planning it all in those moments, the liquor cabinet is newly restocked, and he gets half way through his plot when Erik kisses him again and the pulls back only to stare him.

“I. Love. You.” Erik bites out like it hurts him, but it feels like needles when Charles actually says it so he lets it go.

“Now, let’s never do that again, but what does Emma have to do with me saying I love you?” Charles demands. Erik’s hands on his cheeks tighten for a moment before Erik seems to relax on the ground.

“She just was being vague and it doesn’t matter now,” Erik answers. He pauses for a moment and Charles can tell he’s thinking once more. “She invited us to a party, but we’re not going.”

“We’re not?”

“No.” Charles just smiles.

“Good, I’d rather not see anyone anyways.” 


	6. Choke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things between Erik and Charles always seem to escalate quickly. 
> 
> It's like they have no brakes. 
> 
> Or nothing that tells them no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE warning here guys, look at the tags something new has been added.
> 
> If that bothers you, do not read this new chapter.

Friday night, and they aren’t at any party. Most of their friends will be blasting their Facebook walls with demands to know why they weren’t at the party, Charles will tell them that Erik was too tired from work to play with them, and Erik won’t give a fuck that he’s the bad guy in the scenario. Sometimes Charles is pretty sure he relishes in that distinction, that Charles will most likely been seen as the sweetheart and the wounded animal while he’s the monster. Charles also supposes if he were a better boyfriend or whatever that is he would try to look into why his boyfriend likes to have people basically confirm him being a horrible person.

“Raven drunk texted me,” he tells the prone Erik. His boyfriend just chuckles at first, but eventually even he gets tired of the sound of his own laughter and he sits up.

“Drunk text her back, it’s not like you can’t,” Erik tells him. Charles stares at the glass in his hand and has to give Erik a point; he’s past the threshold so anything he sends back can be considered a drunken text.

“You act like you think I’m an alcoholic or something,” he says. He adds a pout a few seconds later and Erik just looks at him for a few moments. The bastard won’t even deny it, not that Charles really expects him to. Still he could at least pretend to not think so.

“I do. Actually I am pretty sure it’s all agreed upon that you are going to destroy your liver and die an early death on dialysis,” Erik explains. Charles hits him hard. His palm makes a loud slapping sound, in the silence, against the bare skin.

“Not true, I have so much money that they will save my life because I will line their pockets to the brim.” The way Erik looks at him he can tell that he isn’t sure whether he should laugh or just agree with whatever comes out of Charles’ mouth. There are nights he loves that Erik looks at him like he’s full of it, but there are also nights where he just wants Erik to stop looking at him like that. Like he’s so below him morally, Charles wants to remind Erik exactly where his place is in life and how everyone hates him. The other vicious part of him wants to mention how Erik whimpers in his sleep sometimes and it annoys the piss out of him, but he doesn’t wake Erik up. Though that’s mostly because he doesn’t want to have a heart to heart about whatever plagues Erik’s dreams. He’s done that one too many times—once to be exact. He never wants to do it again.

“I am sure they would.” Charles leans down. He hovers over Erik’s face until the man just stares back at him. “I would just have to make sure you weren’t my surgeon.” Erik wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him down. Their kiss is awkward, their lips too dry and the angle all off, but Charles enjoys it none the less.

“If we’re together, they won’t let me,” Erik tells him. Charles arches a brow as he crawls over Erik’s form; his knees press on the mattress on either side of Erik’s hips before resting his forearms on his chest.

“If? Planning on stepping out on me?” he asks. He tries to make it sound playful, but he’s pretty sure he’s missed the mark. Erik’s mouth hardens and he grabs Charles’ wrists so tightly he’s sure there will be bruises in the aftermath.

“Are you looking for an opening?” Erik demands. The smile that comes over Charles face is dark and mean and Erik just returns it. It’s going to be one of those nights, when they dig at each other and it can either end in bruises or one of them finds his way out the door. Charles shifts on his knees and tugs at Erik’s grip; he doesn’t even try to go gently. Instead he wrenches his arms back, relishing in the marks it’ll make in the end, in the gasps and worried glances that he’ll receive. People who are usually tired of his bullshit will flock to him and give Erik those looks.

Erik lets him go.

Charles falls back on his ass onto Erik’s thighs. What he does next he knows will paint him more of the villain than Erik, but that’s only if Erik will let them see it at all. He surges forward, his fingers wrap around Erik’s neck. Their eyes lock as he presses down against Erik’s windpipe. He should stop, he knows this, but the second he starts to release, Erik brings his hands back up and holds his hand against his neck.

There it shows up again, Erik’s twistedness.

Charles leans down, all whilst his hands are still wrapped around Erik’s throat and presses a kiss to his cheeks. Erik just holds his wrists tighter, keeping him in place. Charles doesn’t even try to shift his hands, he’s choking Erik and he’s sure he should feel like this is wrong, but he’s giving Erik something he wants.

Though the moment Erik’s hands loosen in grip, Charles lets him go. He raises his hands to either side of his face and just looks down at Erik as he regains his breath.

“You know for someone who wants to grow up and save lives you have one giant death wish,” Charles says unkindly. There is still a slight bit of haze in Erik’s eyes, but there is enough that he glares at Charles with such oozing hatred that he almost wishes he had choked him until he passed out.

“Shut the fuck up,” Erik rasps out. “Like you have any room to talk.” He tries to sit up and Charles forces him back down. Erik just glares at him and Charles glares back.

“What was that supposed to mean?” Charles demands. He’s not a thrill seeker, he doesn’t drive his car thirty above the speed limit and he sure has hell doesn’t have his need to be nearly choked to death.

“Please tell me that your drinking and your overall way of living isn’t just as self-destructive,” Erik points out.

“Fuck you.” Charles shoves off of him. He storms over to the liquor cabinet, he needs something to drink if he’s going to deal with this. Behind him the bed shifts and there’s Erik turning him around, pushing him up against the wall, and then there’s the hand against his own throat. Except, Erik doesn’t press down, he just stands there holding his hand against Charles’ throat in threat. “What are you going to choke me until I go down? Hope I’ll find out what so awesome about it? Think I won’t still see you as a sick fuck?” The barb is wild, but he sees the change in Erik almost immediately. He pulls his hand back, only to punch Charles in the face. It hurts and Charles just cups his face. There is a part of him that wants to scream at Erik, to tell him to get the hell out. Instead of all that Charles punches Erik right back. His fist hurts but it’s more than worth it to see the pain bloom over his face. Just like he is sure it did on his.

Charles waits for the second swing.

It never comes.

Erik stumbles to the freezer instead and grabs out two bags of frozen vegetables—Charles forgot he even had those—and tosses one to him. However, Erik doesn’t put the bag on his face; instead he tenderly cradles his fist and presses the peas to it. Charles can tell he’s glaring down at his hands.

“If you’ve ruined your precious hands, it’s your own fault,” Charles snaps. The cold is uncomfortable against his cheek, but he keeps it pressed there none the less. Erik snaps his head back up and the glare is back on Charles.

“I’ll go pack,” he snarls. Charles nearly drops the bag.

“No!” He reaches forward and cradles Erik’s hand to his chest, though he makes sure to keep it on the ice. “Please, please no,” he begs. Erik just stares at him completely slack jawed. This isn’t something that happens between them; usually they’re both so mad that when the other one makes motions for leaving they’re so happy to be single again.  There’s a chance that if he doesn’t let Erik go, things could get worse, bones could actually get broken, things can be destroyed completely. But Charles isn’t ready to let go. He presses his lips to Erik’s had in desperation. “Just stay the night. Tomorrow you can decide whether or not you’re leaving.” Erik licks his lips. Charles watches as his face as he debates the pros and cons. Eventually, he nods. Charles’ face breaks into a grin.  He doesn’t press himself against Erik, he’s careful of his hand, yet he does pull the other man back into the bedroom.

When Erik whimpers in his sleep and whispers no, Charles tries his best to refrain from rolling his eyes—not that Erik will ever know—and he wraps his arms around the sleeping man in an awkward motion to try to sooth Erik. When the whimpers die out, Charles tells himself that it’s because he’s holding him. He pushes out all the memories of when Erik has stopped crying out all on his own. He presses his lips to the back of Erik’s neck and whispers, “Please stay, never leave me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of me wants to say they're getting better... but honestly these boys really need some therapy and other things.


	7. When We Care pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Erik's turn to show he cares.

The second he steps into the apartment he knows something is wrong. His 10am class is cancelled and he has nothing else to do for the rest of the day, so he’ll go home. Yet, as he starts to shut the door he sees Charles lying on their couch, his belly down and multiple bottles of beers strewn between the couch and the coffee tables. At first Erik thinks that Charles is passed out, that he’s sleeping off whatever binge he went through, except as the door shuts Charles pops his head up and peers over the armrest. His eyes are bleary and his cheeks are flushed. There are parts of Erik that want to sneer and make all his usual comments, yet there is also another bit of him that remembers that even 10am is early for Charles.

The only exception is when it’s an all-day affair, and when those happen Erik is usually awoken by a mimosa being shoved into his hands and Charles just grinning like a loon.

“What happened?” he asks instead, he tries to keep his tone civil. They’ve been tiptoeing around each other for the past week and a half, and Erik would rather not have a screaming match on one of his days off. Though he is somewhat surprised that they haven’t had one of their classic matches—maybe today is the day.

“That, that woman just decided it up and die on me,” Charles manages to say; tears are already streaming down his face causing his skin to go blotchy. Erik pauses for a moment, he doesn’t have to ask who Charles means, but he’s taken slightly aback by the tears—Charles has told him multiple times that he doesn’t like crying not really crying in front of people, and Erik appreciates the sentiment.

“When?” he asks. Sharon Xavier-Marko has been on her way out the door for most of Charles’ college years. From the comments Raven always made, it sounded like her liver was failing. Yet,  with the way Charles acts it’s like that wasn’t the case. If it was just her drinking herself to death he doesn’t think he would walk into something like this.

“This morning, after you left is when I got the call,” Charles whimpers. He reaches forward and Erik walks towards him. He tries his best not to flinch as Charles flings his arms around him and holds onto him tightly. Erik opens his mouth to ask how, but Charles’ presses his face against Erik’s stomach and he nearly forgets to breathe as his knees buckle and he lands on the couch’s arm. His hands rest upon Charles’ back, beneath the sweatshirt he can feel as Charles’ back shudders. It’s almost like everything stops as he just lets Charles cry against his shirt.

“I hate her. I hate her so much. Why am I crying?” Charles looks up at him, like he should answer the question.

“She’s your mother?” Erik tries to offer.

“She may have birthed me but that, that thing was never my mother,” Charles sounds like he’s shattering. Erik’s never heard this story. He has had his speculations about the relationships between all the Xaviers, but really he has no room to talk so he doesn’t. Erik just holds onto Charles at tightly as he can. “She was withering away slowly anyway, but no she had to jumpstart it.”

“What happened?” Erik finally asks. Charles peers up at him, eyes red rimmed.

“She plowed one of her cars into a pole. Driving while intoxicated or maybe while she was on one of her medications, they don’t really know. But she’s left everything to me seeing as her ex-husband has been in the ground for years. I’m surprised she even remembered I was still alive.”

“And Raven?”

“Raven gets nothing because she’s not a blood heir,” Charles explains. “I hate that bitch.” Erik once more doesn’t ask who he’s talking about instead he just rests his hand on Charles’ back and tries to be of comfort. It’s all okay for a while, well as okay as it can be with Charles’ mother being dead. Except then Charles drunkenly leans to the side, nearly toppling over off the couch as he tries to fish a bottle that isn’t empty. Erik snatches it away from him before he can lift any one of them to his lips.

“So you’re going to drink yourself to an early death, just like mommy dearest?” Erik asks unkindly. Charles looks up at him, his face twisting into anger as he shoves Erik away.

“Don’t preach to me,” he snarls. He slaps his hands down on Erik’s thighs and his fingers begin to dig in. Erik feels like he’s being pulled tight, on one hand he knows how it feels to lose one’s mother, and other Charles is a raging asshole who often uses any excuse to drink. However, he clamps his mouth shut and reaches forward instead. He strokes a palm along Charles’ cheek—resisting the urge to hold too tightly as Charles glares up—and he tries to speak in soothing tones.

“I’m just saying maybe you shouldn’t mourn your mother’s death with alcohol, not when it’s something that she was dying from.” Erik tries again, but Charles hits him and it’s like he can no longer really see. He just wants to retaliate. Except, he can’t because unlike normal times Charles is actually hurting. Pushing forward he makes Charles move back until his back is pressing against the other armrest of the couch and presses his lips against Charles, his fingers thread through soft hair and he can taste the alcohol on his tongue. Erik feels like he might be holding on too tightly, but as flashes of deteriorated memories of his own mother her face right before her blood was splattered all over him came to fast and hard.

It feels like he can’t breathe even as he pulls back away from Charles. He stares into the blue, red rimmed eyes and speaks, “I am sorry, but you need to stop acting like a fucking baby and think.” He lets Charles go before he gets up off the couch and collects the bottles. “When’s the funeral?”

“I don’t know.” Erik opens his mouth to say something to say anything, but he can’t. What can he do offer to take off work so he can drive Charles up to wherever the estate is and then stand by his side while people mourn a woman they probably hated—if Charles is any authority to go by? He knows if he offers Charles will just shut him down spout out random things about how he doesn’t want to take his Welfare boyfriend to upper society outing. Erik’s hands spasm around the glass bottles, but he stops before he hears the creaks of the bottles pressing against one another. The silence in the apartment only creaks on until Erik drops the bottles into the recycling bin that one of their friends—he can’t remember which one exactly—gave them. It’s only until after all of the bottles are in the bin that he stops, one hand resting on the counter top, and listens. Charles is quiet, but Charles is never quiet.

“Don’t fucking touch those keys,” he warns.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Charles shoots back. Erik pushes off from the counter and stalks back into the living room. Wrapping one arm around Charles he begins to search through the pockets. Charles squirms against him pushing and pulling at him, but it’s only half-hearted, Erik barely has to pay attention to him before he finishes the check. It’s only when he doesn’t come up with any keys for a third time that he allows Charles to fall back into a drunken heap on the couch. “You’re such a brute. Do you even have emotions? My mother just died and you’re giving me lectures and making sure I don’t drive. Why would I even want to?” He’s trying his best, he really doesn’t want to yell, but Charles keeps going on and he’s breaking.

“You’ve threatened me enough about you drinking and driving, or are you going to pretend that never happens?” Erik’s breathing hard, but it’s there all the times that they’ve broken up and Charles will do something anything and it’s not like he can say anything. He’s done his own fair share. He’s nearly damaged his hands more often than he can count, almost ruining most of his future plans at becoming a surgeon.

“I’ve never gone through with it,” Charles replies.

“I’ve never given you the chance!” Erik shouts. He’s shaking, it’s something that shocks him because last time he was shaking so badly was after he smacked one of his foster father’s with a piece of wood and then knew that he was going to get the shit beaten out of him for the trouble. Just when he’s about to walk away, when he’s about to grab his bag and go back to the school, he feels Charles wrapping his arms around him and pressing his face against his back. His body keeps quivering like it knows that this isn’t enough.

“Please come with me, to the funeral whenever that happens,” Charles whispers.

“I will,” Erik replies.

“Promise.”

“I promise.” He seals it; there is no way, even if they’re not together then that he won’t be going, that he won’t be standing by Charles side and that they won’t end up in some dusty old room that’s never been used screwing each other’s brains out.

The fact is, no one thinks Erik is aware of how screwed up this all is, but he does. He knows how fucked up he and Charles are. He knows he’s that person who is probably going to end up with in jail because he let his anger go or with a bullet in the head. Just like he knows that Charles is going to kill himself off probably in the same way his mother just did. Yet, knowing all of it doesn’t make him stop because despite it all, despite all the pain. They fit. It’s crazy and it’s stupid and he’s probably going to hurt for it, but that’s the fact. So, every time their friends want to help him see the light Erik just wants to bash their faces in even more. He’s not even sure they’re friends or just add ons for his and Charles’ life. Charles’ come from the fact that they’re all friends with Raven and Erik’s come from him being ex-roommates with Charles.

“Don’t leave,” Charles whispers. “Stay.” They’re on eggshells, they’ve been on eggshells, but he can’t leave Charles not right then. So, instead he twists in the grip until he’s facing Charles. He slips a hand beneath Charles’ chins and tilts his head up. Erik stares down into blue eyes and just presses his forehead against Charles’.

“I won’t, but stop drinking the shitty stuff,” Erik says, “It makes you a shit conversationalist.” Charles snorts.

“You’re always a shit conversationalist, what’s your excuse?” Charles asks him.

“Fuck you.”

“Later.” Their mouths are slotting together and Charles is moaning against him, forgetting it all. Erik presses closer because maybe if he doesn’t look too close he won’t see it all. He won’t hate Charles for dragging him back he won’t hate him for giving him another reason to remember his mother. To remember that he isn’t living the life she would want him to. He tugs a little too hard at Charles’ hair, but Charles makes no noise in protest. Though he does eventually pull away and drag a finger along Erik’s lips. “If you’re not going to let me drink any more beer than can I have some whiskey or bourbon? Or really anything? We'll, drink it in our bed and let the day waste away.”

“Classes?”

“My mother just died Erik, I think they’ll be forgiving and if not, well I am now in control of my family’s fortune. They _will_ be okay with it.” Erik presses a kiss to the corner of Charles’ lips.

“I’ll get your damn drink. You go lay down.”

“Want me to share all my happy memories of Mommy Dearest?” Charles asks bitterly. Erik knows, he knows that Charles barely has anything nice to say about his mother, yet he still flinches. Last thing he wants to do is discuss mothers. His was fantastic, his foster mothers not so much, though some had been better than others. Still he’s been bouncing around the system since he could really do much.

“No,” Erik manages to utter. He lets go of Charles and goes to grab the whiskey.

“Good I didn’t want to say anything good about her anyways,” Charles replies. He sounds flippant about it all, but Erik ignores it mostly and instead goes back into the kitchen. The bottle isn’t too hard to find nor are two matching glasses. However, Erik still stands in the kitchen for a good ten minutes surprised that Charles is even waiting that long. It when he reaches the bedroom he knows why. Charles is crying again, his shoulders shaking so hard that Erik nearly drops the bottle once he realizes that Charles is actually really sobbing. The whiskey bottle clinks as he sets it down on the end table. Erik only takes a few moments to crawl into bed beside Charles and just hold him. Charles whispers, “I hate her.” And all Erik says in response is.

“I know.” 


	8. Drink Me Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all shatters first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I apologize. But this is for Deek who I told if she went to bed at 1am that she would get a DJ chapter. Well here it is! I hope you guys like it!

 

He’s going to end up calling him, he knows he will even before he grabs the phone off the table and begins to play with it. Charles has drank enough wine and whatever else is left in his house—he really needs to go shopping or something later, to warrant him to call. Erik is somewhere, he thinks he may be studying for some ridiculous test because that’s what Erik does, he pretends he needs to spend time away and that’s the first sign that everything is not okay. Erik is going to leave, and Charles knows it. He taps a finger against the screen of his phone a couple of times before selecting Erik’s name.

The phone rings and Erik picks up almost immediately, which Charles deduces means he’s at the library—perfect that’s only twenty miles away. He waits until he hears the shuffling of papers and what sounds like Erik moving away from whoever he’s studying with, Charles ignores the flare of jealousy in his stomach.

“What?” Erik growls out.

“What are you doing?” Charles asks, he lays down back against his pillows and just smiles as Erik curses at him.

“I’m studying. Remember. I told you that I would be out.”

“Had to make sure, you could be at a bar for all I know.”

“Does it sound like I am at a bar?”

“No need to be testy, _baby_ ,” Charles purrs at him. Erik lets out another slew of words just for him.

“What. Do. You. Want?” Erik bites out.

“Come back.”

“No.”

“Then I’ll come to you,” Charles tells him. He pushes off the couch and the world heaves around him. Whatever is left of his balance makes a gallant effort to keep him from falling to the ground, but it falls short as Charles catches himself on the coffee table. He lets out a small noise of pain, thought it really doesn’t hurt too much. Or it does and he’s too damn drunk to really care. In his ear he can hear Erik as he moves quickly to somewhere.

“Fuck, how much did you drink?” Erik demands.

“The whole cabinet isn’t gone, don’t worry you’ll get yours.”

“Not the fucking point.” Charles listens as Erik packs up his things and issues terse and unapologetic excuses towards whoever he had been studying with. “I am coming just, just stay there.” Charles settles back against the couch and waits, he’s pretty sure it shouldn’t take long before Erik arrives and for once his boyfriend doesn’t disappoint him. Except when Erik walks in, he looks like he’s going to set fire to the world. Usually Charles either finds this extremely sexy or he just as pissed as Erik. Right then he feels like maybe he doesn’t want to be on the end of Erik’s glare not when he can barely even stand.

“Welcome home baby,” Charles greets. Erik just glares at him, and then there’s a set of keys thrown at him. They smack against his stomach with a force that makes Charles think that maybe Erik should be playing baseball or some other game where they throw things. “What the fuck?” he asks.

“I was thinking while I was coming over, maybe you should go ahead, go fucking drive,” Erik snarls. He’s leaning down his long fingers spread along the top of the coffee table and Charles just wants to deck him, but there’s something caught in his throat and it feels like he might cry. He doesn’t want to cry because he never lets Erik make him cry. He picks up the lone wine bottle and chucks it at Erik. It misses him, of course it does, and it shatters against the wall. “Like you could even walk to the car.” Erik continues to sneer at him. Charles picks up another glass, it’s something he can’t even tell if it’s full or not. This one hits Erik and he goes down, hard. For a moment there is no noise, he’s pretty sure he’s killed Erik. Charles lets out a noise that he’ll never admit to be able to make and crawls forward. Erik is on the floor he has a hand on his collarbone and he’s glaring up at Charles with eyes filled with pain.

“Erik, Erik I am so sorry.” Charles hands flutter over the body but he doesn’t touch. He can’t touch Erik. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It becomes his mantra as he stares down at Erik. He stumbles to his feet and nearly ends up face first on the ground. Eventually though he gets his hands around a phone, but it’s like it’s all too slippery he can’t hit any button. He’s breathing too erratically, and it feels like everything is constricting on him. Glancing back he sees that Erik is reaching on hand out for the phone. Charles gives it up easily.

 

*

 

Charles is shitfaced and he’s at the ER. It sounds like it should be something that happens often in his life. It doesn’t. Maybe he’s been there a couple of times, but never really for anyone he’s ever really cared about. Sure there was one time that Sean put his head through a window and the other time that Alex was swiped by a car, but he had been there more as Raven’s big brother who was going to drive them all home and not tell their parents. But he’s not at the hospital for any of them; no he’s there because Erik’s hurt.

And it’s all his fault.

He’s going to be sick, which might be preferred action. Charles runs a hand through his hair just in time to see Azazel and Raven walking in. It takes him a moment to realize that neither of them should be there because Erik is no longer living with Az and Raven can just fuck right the hell off if she thinks she can swoop in and take Erik. He shakes the thoughts away and waits for them.

“Are you drunk?” Raven accuses. Azazel shushes her and for that moment Charles likes Erik’s ex-roommate.

“Can I ask what happened?” Azazel asks and Charles goes back to watching him distrustfully.

“No, you cannot,” Charles grumbles. Azazel gives a short nod.

“Well then I am going to take Erik _home_ , seeing as he gained his new injury while at your place,” Azazel tells him.

“Funny since his home is with me,” Charles snaps. He stands and moves to stand toe to toe with Azazel. Raven presses between them her hand hitting the bruise Erik and his keys had left.

“Erik is a big boy, he’ll decide for himself where he’s staying.” Charles wants to say something, but he’s not sure if he can manage even that. Instead he turns away intent on getting some coffee.

Eventually Erik is going to be released and when that happens, Charles doesn’t want to know how long that break will be. Erik doesn’t forgive easily and he likes to make things hurt. Charles stares at his hands and wishes that he had let it go for a moment. Grabbing blindly for a cup of coffee, Charles keeps his eyes closed and just breathes.  The cafeteria really isn’t silent but it’s as good as it’s going to get.

“You know Az told me that Erik’s probably going to shake it all off,” Raven tells him. Charles doesn’t feel surprised that she’s there already and staring at him like he’s going to answer.

“I threw a bottle at him. He can press charges if he wants,” Charles admits. The fact that Raven doesn’t look shocked should say something, but Charles isn’t going to look at it. He doesn’t want to see his own monster in the mirror.

“It’s Erik,” she says that like it explains everything. Yet it does. Erik won’t whisper a word. Charles has seen the old wounds that cover Erik’s body and he’s never heard a single story. “Anyway, Az says he’s ready to see you.” Charles steals himself as he turns right around. He’ll face Erik when he breaks it off; everyone knows Erik’s done that more than once. He walks into the room and there Erik is his arm in a splint and glaring at everyone in the room.

“Are we going home now?” he asks. He’s looking at Charles, and all Charles can feel is elation.

“Yes.” 


	9. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a moment where they aren't fighting, where they aren't scrabbling to hold each other. 
> 
> It's just a moment when all is right. A lull in their relationship.

Charles rests his head on Erik’s stomach; they’re both staring into the stars as the pass the cigarette between them. Erik is just breathing and Charles wonders for a moment what it would be like if they both just stopped. He takes a drag, blowing the smoke into the air until it curls and twirls in the night sky. Words itch at the inside of his mouth, and he wants to talk. Except at the same moment, he doesn’t. He wants to reach up and grip the sky, to pull it down so that they can no longer breathe.

There are moments when Charles’ mind disturbs him.

He glances at Erik and wonders what Erik sees in him. Most people see his face, his blue eyes, red lips, and all the other things that make him seem so innocent and proper. They see his wealth, they listen to his accent and assume he is so intelligent. They see something else and then a night with him pulls them out of the fantasy, but Erik sees not only those parts but he also sees the darkness. Erik gets to view everything and he doesn’t move from his spot. He just stares at Charles and sneers.

What he wouldn’t give to see what Erik sees.

Because he sees Erik, a lot of people don’t think he does, but they’re wrong. He sees what the rest of the world sees the anger and the violence held back by strings. Just barely by things that will snap at any time, but Charles also sees the tenderness in Erik’s hands briefly whenever he handles the old things in the apartment—the few things that Erik brought with him. He has watched as the moments come and when they disappear by the brunt of Erik’s anger. The fact is that they see all of each other, and maybe that’s why they fit. Neither one expects more than the other is going to give.

Except that’s a lie. Charles muses on that for a few moments blinking up, or is it really down—gravity is something that intrigues him at times, at the sky. His lips wrap around the filter and his sucks in the nicotine. Reaching back with his free hand he drags his palm along Erik’s toned belly. The tips of his fingers twist in Erik’s shirt, the very one he rucked up before he laid down. He pulls the cigarette from his lips and then tugs on Erik’s shirt. Long nimble fingers meet  his and pluck what is left of their smoke from him. Charles lets out the air.

“When did it start?” he asks.

“The world or this?” Erik replies.

“Both,” Charles answers. He shrugs his shoulders and then lets out a peel of laughter. Erik’s fingers tangle in Charles’ hair and pull lightly at the strands.

“Big Bang and you came onto me at a party,” Erik answers quick and short. Charles rolls onto his stomach before he rests his chin on Erik’s stomach. Fingers trail beneath his shirt along his spine.

“How did you get to be like this?” he asks the question that pulls out more hurt than it should, but Charles doesn’t care.

“Do you really want to know?” Erik asks in response. Honestly, Charles knows the answer within a few seconds, but he hesitates for reasons he won’t look at.

“No.”

“Good.” Charles smiles at the gruff response. He kind of loves that about Erik, the fact that he would leave if Charles pried into his wounds just like Charles will hurt people when they get too close. Pressing his lips to Erik’s abdomen, he rewards him for the good response.

Charles remembers other ex’s who were insulted when he showed disinterest in their stories or when he would snap at them for prying. However, then there is Erik who sometimes screams and cries in his sleep. Who twists and turns in bed until most of the sheets are trapping his gorgeous body—if Charles isn’t in the bed with him. Charles loves that despite the pain and the anger being so obvious on Erik’s form, he’ll never try to get Charles to understand why he is the way he is.

There is also the fact that he knows that Erik will never demand that he goes to a therapist.

Raven  does.

Though Raven is on a new kick where she goes to therapy and crushes on her therapist, saying that no one has seen her soul like her godly therapist. Charles gives her two weeks before she tries to proposition them. Hopefully whoever she is going to indulges her because Charles would rather not have to pause his life in the few moments it takes for Raven to put herself back together. She falls in love too easily, he thinks.

Charles was unsure he could love before Erik happened.

Love.

It’s a strange thing, he muses. To love someone, to actually shatter at the thought of them being hurt. The fact that Erik says he loves him, well it’s honestly astounding because Erik doesn’t seem like the type to love and Charles’ mother had proven easily that he is nearly unlovable. He kisses Erik’s stomach once more and then stares up at him.

“Longest relationship?” he asks. Erik looks at him, the expression in his eyes are asking if it’s a trick question. It could be. Charles isn’t sure he won’t get pissed off and jealous if Erik answers anyone but himself.

“You.”

“Shortest?” Erik huffs and shifts his body, nearly rocking Charles off of him.

“You’re the only one I have actually had a technical relationship with,” Erik answers with a disgruntled growl.

“I can’t remember the name of mine,” Charles says, “the shortest relationship, you’re the longest obviously, but I was in middle school and she was a spoiled brat. I started to fool around with her brother.” Erik snorts. “What is that for?”

“Just typical of you Charles.”

“It is, isn’t it? Hmmm, good thing you don’t have any siblings.” Reaching down, Erik grabs at his biceps and Charles allows himself to be dragged up along Erik’s body until they’re pressed chest to chest. He nips at Erik’s chin and smiles.

“But you have one,” Erik reminds him.

“True, but you don’t want to get involved with that. She’ll be in love with you by the second date and have your future mapped out by the third. Just ask Hank,” Charles warns.

“Unlike you who slept with me on the first date, and then the second one too.”

“I don’t expect to marry you.”

“Good.”   


	10. Second Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This could be considered a second date right? At least the may have eaten something together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Pan for being like "Hey so about that new trailer" and so I barely got off my ass and wrote the rest of this chapter that's been sitting on my computer for IDK how long it's been a while ehh babes?

Surprisingly enough it isn’t a bar where he runs into Erik again. Instead it’s at the campus store where they sell overly priced hoodies and sweatshirts of the school mascot. The reason Charles is in the store is mostly because his mother hates the school colors, thinks he could’ve done better—and honestly he could’ve gotten into any school he wanted to—and just overall hates everything he’s done with his life. In truth he honestly can’t imagine any of his parents to be okay with most of his decisions, yet at least his mother is often too drunk to really take notice or give much of an effort to make his life a living hell. So, Charles plans to of course buy various articles of clothing that all have either the mascot or the university name plastered all over it for Mother’s Day. A big old thank you for the woman who never gave a damn about him in the first place.

What Erik is doing in the store, Charles isn’t quite certain but he looks perturbed and rather like he’s about to punch whoever gets in his way out. In all honesty it just makes Charles want to talk to him more. Erik is known all around campus for his hair trigger temper and for the fact that it’s a commonly believed that he’s never gone to jail because of it. A fact that Charles has to admit impresses him greatly because he’s been with a few people who’ve had a few domestics called on them—his sister being one of them.

He sidles up next to Erik, with a mound of clothing in his arms and smiles. At first Erik only gives him a cursory glance, acknowledging that yes he is there, before returning to his heated discussion. However, that only lasts for six minutes—Charles counts—before Erik turns fully back towards him and frowns.

“If you’re trying to place my face I may have to take this pepper spray keychain and use it,” Charles tells him sweetly. Erik snorts, slams some money down and looks him up and down.

“I remember you. I just want to know what the fuck you’re doing here.” It’s not a bad question, actually it is one Charles would ask himself—except he remembers the way Erik felt and how he actually somehow enjoyed himself the one day when Erik stayed until dinner.

“Buying paraphernalia to piss off my mum, she thinks this place is trash,” Charles informs him cheerfully. 

“Not good enough for her trust fund baby?” Erik sneers.

“Not even in the slightest. I could pay for that you know,” Charles tells him, motioning towards the few bars of food and the book.

“I don’t need charity.”

“I wasn’t going for that, you can repay me by fucking me into my mattress if it makes you feel better,” Charles replies. The cashier behind the counter is already coughing and sputtering her eyes wide. It’s probably not every day that she gets to hear people propositioning each other in her line, but honestly she should get used to it they are in college anyway.

“After lunch,” Erik agrees, stepping back and letting shove the clothes closer to the still choking cashier.

“What that monster in your trousers not work without you being on a full stomach?”

“Works just fine, I want food out of this.” Erik picks up one of the breakfast bars and takes a bite out of it, munching almost happily on it.

“An opportunist I see,” Charles muses, handing his card over. “Luckily, I’m still under the misguided impression that your cock is worth it.”

“Let’s hope that misconception sticks around for a bit then.” They leave with about six bags, most of them Charles’ and walk towards his car for at least four minutes of amicable silence until Erik steals the keys right from his grip and starts for the driver’s seat.

“Fuck. No.” Charles stops right where he is. “There are a lot of things I’d do for another fuck with you, but I draw a line at getting in a metal death trap and that’s what that car becomes when you’re driving.” Erik stops but he doesn’t drop the keys, he just holds it keys by the tips of his pointer and thumb, while giving off a fucking smarmy grin.

“Take them then,” he challenges.

“Oh, fuck you,” Charles snarls. He tells himself no matter how much he’s draw to that body and man; he’s not going to let him compromise him.

“It was going to be the other way around remember?” Erik swings the keys back and forth. Charles watches them and tries to debate with himself whether or not he’s actually going to fucking do this. They’re almost chest to chest when Charles finds himself less pissed than he thought.

“Just get in the damn car and don’t kill us, please.” Erik leans down, brushing their lips against one another; it’s like a flutter, soft and almost tender. Charles hates it. His hand shoots up, digging into his hair and pulling Erik down making the kiss rougher. There is no pause no surprised as Erik takes the brutal violence and turns it back to Charles until his lips feel like they are stinging. They stop, breathing harshly and chests heaving.

“I can promise I won’t kill you, yet.” Charles looks up at him and laughs.

“Promises, promises.”

 

Somehow he manages to coax Erik into eating at the expensive restaurant—expensive for most college students--about six blocks away from the campus. Charles supposes it might have had to do with his hand on his thigh coaxing its way up towards his cock, but he’s not sold on the idea that that is the fact. Erik is settled across from him looking irritated at the display of text in front of him.

“And you’re paying for this?” he asks, dragging his fingers along the menu. Charles takes a gander at the said menu, he’s been there before with Raven but taking a look at the prices with a new companion sometimes puts his wealth into perspective. Actually it doesn’t. It never really does. He’s richer than ‘the king’ but still sometimes he can’t help but be amused by people freaking out of a twenty-seven dollar dish.

“That is correct, nice to see your short term memory is indeed intact,” Charles tells him sweetly. “You do know what I want for this right, still remember that?”

“Yes, I remember how you’re treating me like a prostitute,” Erik snaps, his teeth flashing and right then Charles definitely can see the shark. He taps his fingers on the table and thinks on the words though.

“Well, in a sense yes, but I like to think it’s more of an equal trade. If you’re not good enough then, you’ll owe me,” Charles replies. Erik stares at him, jaw working and nothing but rage in his eyes all while Charles just smiles.

This is how they end up fucking in the bathroom.

Charles doesn’t even fight as Erik pulls him into the handicap stall, he moves along with it trying to make this transition easiest all while trying to think if this is actually the first time he’s had sex in a public bathroom. It’s usually a room he avoids—at all costs—but it looks like Erik is making him break another one of his rules. Not that he minds too much when Erik’s fingers are digging into his hips and his mouth is covering his own. Erik is molding their bodies together and sensation of him being everywhere almost makes Charles ignore the fact that he’s being pressed against a dirty tile wall of a public restroom. He shoves his hands in between their chests and pushes.

“Not fucking likely,” he growls. Erik doesn’t reply with words just another growl before he pulls him harshly against his body again—sans the bathroom wall joining in. Hands are everywhere pulling at clothing in the search for skin, for anything. Charles feels the drags of calluses along his back, trailing down his spine and he arches closer to Erik, his breath puffing against his neck. The groan that Erik lets out sends a thrill all the way down to the base of his spine, and his nails dig into the fabric over Erik’s shoulders—broad and how in the hell is this man even built, Charles wonders opened mouthed right before Erik covers it with his own. He puts up a mild fight for the dominance in the kiss before letting himself surrender to Erik. His back bows slightly pressing his half uncovered chest to Erik’s mostly covered. At the touch, Erik nearly rears back too fast and almost brains himself with the stall door.

“There is something wrong with this picture,” Erik grumbles, pulling at Charles’ shirt and nearly destroying the buttons before he pushes the shirt down his shoulders. They don’t have time for this, the waiter is going to wonder what they hell they are doing why they aren’t eating their food—or did they even order, Charles can’t quite remember and doesn’t really care to not when Erik is kisses his way along his chest and shoulders. Fuck the server—figuratively.

Erik’s hands are next on his pants, working at the button and zipper before shoving them down over his hips. As the cool air conditioned air hits him, he’s pulled directly out of the moment to stare at Erik’s eyes, he’s not even sure what color they are.

“Do you have anything?” he asks. Erik smiles slow.

“What you don’t?” His fingers are stroking along Charles’ hip as he speaks. Charles wants to punch him in the goddamn face right then and there.

“No, I was buying shit for my mother not looking for a hook up!” he snaps, feeling angry that this moment even if it is in a stupid public bathroom is going to be postponed because all he wants to do is have Erik fuck him, and fuck him hard. Erik leans in, his breath hot against Charles’ ear.

“Good thing I always am then, right?” Erik seems to magically fish a condom and a small travel sized packet of lube from somewhere in his clothes. Charles tilts his head back in relief.

“You evil bastard,” he groans pressing his mouth back against the corner of Erik’s before moving to kiss along his jawline and down his neck.

“You’ll see how much of a bastard I really am,” Erik growls. A retort is hot on his tongue something smart and snappish—of that Charles is certain—but then Erik’s finger is there probing into him, slick with lube he hadn’t even noticed Erik opened. He’s gripping at Erik’s shoulders, pressing his face against the skin of his neck and moaning like some girl out of a porn flick. It feels too good for him to feel ashamed or even try to listen for the door to open, and if anyone does come in well fuck them they get a free show. Erik works him open quick and little rough, just the way Charles wants it before he’s pushed away and closer to the stall door. Behind him he hears the sound pants being shoved down and the opening of a condom packet. “Better brace yourself,” Erik warns. Charles scrambles to press his palms against the cool stall wall, letting out a soft breath as he feels one of Erik’s hands on his hip. He already knows what’s coming, but he still bites his lip when the blunt head of Erik’s cock presses against his entrance.

“Fuck,” he gasps wishing he had something better to hold himself up against, but he’d rather be touching the door than the seat so there are little miracles there. The grip Erik has on his hips is nearly painful and it’s definitely bruising. When this is over when he’s back at his place he knows he’s going to stare at the mirror at his reflection and touch the marks. Only because it’s not often that there is someone who bruises him without him demanding it happen. Erik pushing in and the burn is there, but hot on its heels is the pleasure and the want curling in Charles’ belly. He presses his forehead against his forearm and moans as Erik snaps his hips, pressing into him with an unrelenting speed. An aching want to be able to drag his nails against something to press hard against a mattress and just scream Erik’s name pulls at him, but it’s quickly dashed away when one of Erik’s hands wraps around his own cock and strokes him.

Here he is, the proud Charles Xavier moaning in a public restroom of a semi-expensive restaurant as someone he’s really only met twice is fucking him hard and making him shiver and shake with just a want and pleasure. He moves so he can cover his mouth as the moans pour out of him and Erik is there stroking him, and snapping his hips. A low fire burns in his belly before he’s coming, spilling over Erik’s hand. His release signals for Erik’s, a hot breath brushes against his shoulder blades and back as Erik bends over and press his mouth hotly against his back.

“Fuck, Charles,” Erik gasps out.

“I think that already happed darling, you’re going to have to give me a few hours before we go at this again,” Charles retorts, his knees wobbling and barely holding his weight. Behind him Erik laughs—low and breathy. Both of them move slowly cautious of how small the actual space they are inhabiting is.

“Do you think the food is out there yet?” Erik asks. He’s pulling his pants up and situating his top with a satisfied look all over his face.

“We ordered?”

“You did, at least I thought that’s what that note was,” Erik replies. Charles’ brows furrow as he tries to remember writing a note, it shouldn’t be too hard it was only a few moments ago, but his mind had been preoccupied with the thought of Erik.

“We’ll just have to see now won’t we,” Charles replies once he’s complete dressed.

There is indeed a note on the table hastily scribbled with the words _‘Be back in a few, here’s twenty for your wait_ ’. Charles flips the note over almost glad that he didn’t write what he was probably thinking first ‘ _Going to get fucked, here’s twenty to keep quiet’_. Though that probably would’ve made someone’s day. He settles down and watches Erik do the same. “Now, I think I might owe you,” he tells him. Erik just looks up amused.


End file.
